Out From The Darkness
by Little Angel 19
Summary: A certain superstar needs the help of his friends in order to get his life back, even though it seems as if it's too late. [Rock fic] Please R&R! [Ch.5 Uploaded]
1. Awakenings

AN: Ha, I'm back! We'll just have to wait and see for how long, but hopefully for a while. I'm trying to finish the fics that I started before I "retire" from wrestling fiction, but this fic came to me in a dream, so I had "no choice" but to write it. ;; In a big way it's 'inspired' by Solita's _Hollow One_, so big thank you for her because that fic is just awesome. Anyway, no more rambling. Usual disclaimers apply, don't own anything, blah, blah, blah.  
  
Onto the fic!   
  
= = = = = [Chapter 1] = = = = =  
  
Noise.  
  
Something seemed to be heard in the distance, but he couldn't tell what it was. It seemed to be a mixture of mumbling with some sort of beeping; a beeping that although he knew he had heard before he couldn't remember what it was from.   
  
The voice suddenly went quiet and all that he could hear next was just the beeping. What was that beeping? It seemed to be constant; same beat and same rhythm every time._  
  
Beep.  
  
Beep._  
  
Suddenly, the mumbling started again and, as hard as he tried to hear to what the voice was saying, he couldn't figure out what it was. Was it even directed to him? But, more importantly, who did it belong to? It sounded so familiar, but at the same time it sounded so foreign to him. He tried to look around, to find the person who the voice belonged to, but it was until then that he realized that he was surrounded in darkness. Where was he? What was going on?  
  
The beeping suddenly started quickening and, after a short moment of silence, the voice was heard again; this time more urgent and calling out his name. As he tried to open his mouth in order to respond, and ask who it was, he once again realized that his attempts were futile and that he couldn't even open his mouth. He tried to make a noise, any sort of noise in order to communicate, but nothing came out.  
  
'Oh God,' he thought, 'what the hell is wrong with me? What's happening?'_  
  
"Dwayne? Dwayne, wake up!"_  
  
'I **am **awake!' he tried to explain, but no words came out from his mouth and no noise came out from his throat. _  
  
"Dwayne, please... Please, please wake up."_  
  
'Dammit, I am awake, why can't you see that? Where am I? What's happening?!'   
  
= = = = = = = = =  
  
"Dwayne? Damn it, why aren't you opening your eyes? Huh? Wake up!"  
  
Steve couldn't help but start to pace as he waited for his friend to open his eyes; to finally finish that slumber that had taken him away from everyone from so long. One little thing had gone wrong, and everything had been taken away from him; from his job all the way to his family. And, with that one little thing, he had almost been taken away from them; he had almost died. Hell, he had been as close to dying as one gets without actually dying, and although he kept proving doctors wrong by surviving day in and day out, he had been way too close to actually dying.   
  
All they wanted now was have him back.  
  
But as the days passed by, the desperation among everybody had seemed to almost eat them alive. Waiting in that quiet hospital room for him to just twitch his finger had gotten them to the brink of insanity; but now, after so long, he had finally done it. He had started to frown and had started to move his hand on his own. Steve had been watching him, finishing his 'shift' of accompanying him while either Mick or Kurt got there, when he had noticed the change in expressions. It had seemed hard to believe at first, because it had been something that had been anticipated for so long, but now that it had finally come he wanted Dwayne to open his eyes already.  
  
But, so far, nothing.  
  
Suddenly, the door to the room opened quickly and Mick Foley rushed inside, frowning in concern. "Steve, what the hell? You can be heard from down the hall! Yelling at him is not going to hel-"  
  
"He frowned, Mick. He's frowning, look at him!"  
  
Mick stayed silent as he watched Dwayne before turning to Steve, giving him a sympathetic look. "Steve," he started quietly, "the doctor said that-"  
  
"Screw that, Mick; he's waking up. I know that he is, ok? He's waking up."  
  
"Well he's not awake yet, is he? Don't push him, that's not going to help anyone. Who knows, maybe he can't even..."  
  
Steve had been looking away, furious that Mick was acting the way that he was. After days and nights of them waiting for some sort of sign that their friend was not going to die and that things would go back to normal, Mick seemed to not want to believe that it had actually happened. He was going to start yelling at him, furious for just insinuating that he had just seen things he wanted to see, but when Mick trailed off Steve frowned and turned to him. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
Mick, however, didn't answer; he seemed too shocked to really do anything. Steve, not following Mick's gaze, frowned deeper at him and was about to ask him, yet again, what was wrong with him, when he turned towards the direction that he was looking at; and it was his turn to be surprised.   
  
Shocked, actually.  
  
Dwayne's eyes were starting to open very slowly, as if he was battling some sort of battle against consciousness and his eyes were getting weighed down by lead, but he seemed to be awake. Or, at least, waking up.  
  
"Dwayne?" Mick asked in a low voice, afraid that what they were seeing was simply an illusion. That this was some sort of dream that would just get their hopes up and later make them see that nothing had been real. That Dwayne was still asleep and with no chances of waking up.  
  
That, however, was quickly proven wrong as Dwayne's eyes slowly turned towards the direction where Mick's voice had been. He was alert, at least, and that brought relief and happiness to both Steve and Mick as they rushed to his bed.   
  
"Dwayne?"  
  
"Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?"  
  
At that, Dwayne tried to smile but even attempting was simply exhausting. Very slowly, he started to open his mouth and a voice that sounded too dry and too weak to be his own suddenly answered, "Where am I...? Wh..."  
  
Both Mick and Steve turned to look at each other, unsure if they should answer. Afterall, he had just woken up; they didn't want to confuse him even more with things they weren't sure he would even remember.   
  
"Um," Steve started. "In the hospital, but you'll be ok. You just need some rest and you'll be just fine. Do you need anything?"  
  
"Tired," Dwayne simply answered as he closed his eyes again. "So...tired..."  
  
Mick took Dwayne's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Sleep then, just make sure you wake up this time, ok?" He smiled down at his friend and sighed in relief as he saw him go back to sleep. After so long Dwayne had finally woken up, and he couldn't even begin to explain the happiness that he felt inside. One of his best friends had been close to dying, but now... He had woken up. He had finally woken up.  
  
Maybe everything would actually be ok afterall...  
  
= = = = = = = = =  
  
The faint beeping that Dwayne had heard as he had started to wake up the first time seemed to welcome him yet again, except this time the voice was gone. Even if he had barely been able to realize that he hadn't been alone and someone had been wanting him to wake up, he had liked the feeling of knowing that he wasn't alone; that someone was there with him. Now, though, there was no one asking him to wake up.   
  
Opening his eyes, he blinked slowly as his eyes tried to adjust to the light that filled the room and, unconsciously, he let out a groan. It was too much light, way too soon. Even though he had opened his eyes slowly, the light that was in the room seemed to flood in so quickly that it was making him hurt and his head to start throbbing.   
  
Flinching back the morning sunlight, although he didn't know that that was the burst of light, Dwayne shut his eyes. Almost in an instant, however, the noise of curtain blinds closing and a small click of a lamp was heard. Opening his eyes once again, he frowned slightly and turned towards where the click was heard; and he was glad to see that he wasn't alone.  
  
Kurt was there with him.  
  
"Hey, jabroni," he said in a small voice, still sounding exhausted.   
  
Laughing lightly, mostly in relief to see that what Steve and Mick had told him was true, Kurt grinned widely and went to sit down next to Dwayne's bed once again. "Hey, man. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like if a truck ran me over and I had to lift it off of myself. I'm so tired..."  
  
"Then I guess it works out that you're in a hospital, since you need a lot of rest. You want something to drink before, though?"  
  
Now more awake and alert than the first time he had woken up, Dwayne shook his head slightly and swallowed some sort of knot that seemed to have been in his throat. "No, it's ok. I'm in a hospital?"  
  
Kurt stayed silent for a moment. "Yeah. Have been for a while."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You don't remember?"  
  
Shaking his head very slowly, Dwayne had to fight back the unconsciousness yet again in order to stay awake how he wanted to. "No, what happened?"  
  
"Dwayne," Kurt started in a quiet voice, not wanting to be the one having to tell him. "Why don't you go to sleep again?"  
  
At that, Dwayne frowned. "Just tell me."  
  
"Dwayne-"  
  
"Kurt."  
  
Without even saying anything else, Kurt knew that any attempts at trying to convince him to go back to sleep was useless. It took him a while to gather the courage to even start, but after a while he simply took a deep breath and let it out in a deep sigh before starting to talk. "You... While filming one of your movies one of the cables for your stunts broke. It... It let you fall, from a really high distance, and you were in a pretty bad condition for a while." Silence. "You almost died, Dwayne.  
  
"That's...not it, though. You suffered a big blow to the head, and you've been unconscious for a really long time. A really, really long time."  
  
It all seemed to surreal; this couldn't be happening. Not to him. Not to The Rock. Not to Dwayne Johnson. "Wh... A coma?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"So...now that I'm awake I'll be fine, right?" Dwayne expected a quick answer; a 'Yes, of course!' and an encouraging smile, but all he received was a sympathetic smile.  
  
"The doctor's optimistic about it, yeah."  
  
Not wanting to think about what those words meant, he decided to take his attention away from Kurt to look around the room for the first time. He had been placed in a private room, and flowers, cards and balloons seemed to be a big decorationt heme in it. Was that all for him? Without it the room was probably too bear and empty.  
  
Suddenly, something came to mind and it made him turn quickly to Kurt again. "Kurt, what about Amy? Is she ok? Is she here...?"  
  
The dreaded question had come, and Kurt was definitely sure that he didn't want to answer it. He wanted a doctor to come inside to interrupt; to kick him out of the room so that he could give Dwayne his check-up now that he was awake, but no such luck. An awkward silence filled the room and, for a moment, Kurt didn't know what to say. "Wh- Amy?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, my wife..."  
  
"Sh- She..."  
  
"... She, what?"  
  
"Dwayne...she... She remarried already. She comes once in a while to see you, but... I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't want to tell you, but..." He trailed off, knowing that whatever he said wouldn't matter; it wouldn't change anything. "She's living in Tampa now, with her new family."  
  
The weight of Kurt's words seemed to be too much for him to handle, and with each word that he said he felt as if someone was throwing a bucket of cold water at him. How could...   
  
No. He was lying. He had to be, he had to be lying. He and Amy loved each other; she couldn't...  
  
Could she?  
  
"How... How long did..."  
  
Without finishing the question, Kurt already knew it; he wanted to know how long he had been 'gone.' "Almost... Almost seven years, Dwayne. You... You were just here, asleep. Not alive, but not dead either. No one knew when, or even if you were going to wake up, and..."   
  
Once again Kurt trailed off, not knowing how to finish. There was no right way of finishing. Instead, he sighed softly and looked down at his lap.  
  
Dwayne, not wanting to hear anything else, simply turned his head towards a side where Kurt wouldn't be able to see him; hiding the hot tears that were falling from his eyes. His life had slipped away, all while he slept.   
  
Now nothing would ever be the same.  
  
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 


	2. Shadows from the Past

AN: Thank you _so_ much for the reviews, you don't know how much they meant to me. I didn't think anybody would actually like this fic, or even read it; so thank you. Here's the second chapter already. It's a bit long, and I appologize if it's boring. :/ Wanted to finish setting up the "mood" for later, show the feelings that Dwayne is feeling about what happened, so on. It'll get better, you'll see. ;;  
  
And, **Southern Lil' Me** gave me the idea of pairing him off with a diva and I'm considering it. ;) If you've got any ideas, please feel free to let me know; I'm open for suggestions. :) Thank you once again, and I'll stop my rambling now.   
  
_Little Angel 19  
  
_= = = = = [Chapter 2] = = = = =  
  
"He... He woke up?"  
  
"Yeah. And he knows, Amy, about what you did; so you might want to get out of here."  
  
Although Dwayne knew that Steve and Amy were talking in a really low voice because they both thought that he was still asleep after a very bad night, he could still hear them talking. Actually, he hadn't even fallen asleep after the constant nightmares that he had had throughout the night; he had simply closed his eyes. After Kurt had told him about what she had done, he had gone into some sort of shock; he hadn't been aware of anybody even talking to him. Everybody kept trying to get him to try to eat something, to move, to talk, to even blink, but it had all been useless. Eventually the doctor gave him something that would make him sleep, but even with that he had had a horrible night filled with nightmares and ghosts haunting him.  
  
So, giving up any hope of actually falling asleep, he had simply stayed awake, but with his eyes closed; or simply opening them when he knew that no one else was in the room. Mick, who had been the one who had stayed with him throughout the night, would occassionaly walk outside for a few minutes before coming back into the room to watch TV without turning up the volume.  
  
When he had heard Amy walk inside and greet Steve, who had gotten there just ten minutes before, something inside of him seemed to freeze and send cold shivers all throughout his body. How could it be that she had gotten married with someone else? How could she have done that, after swearing that she would always be with him. That she would always love him, and that she would never leave him alone. Did she even care about him anymore?  
  
'Probably not,' he thought sadly as he closed his eyes even tighter, wanting to shut out the world and wanting to forget everything. Forget the fact that life had played him a bad card and that he was now left with nothing.  
  
No family. No life.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Tears seemed to sting in his eyes for what seemed to be the hundreth time, but he tried to keep his face straight so that no one would see the fact that he was breaking even more than what he was already. He was completely broken now, but his body was finding a way to break into even more pieces - smaller pieces that he would never be able to put back together.  
  
Amy had been watching her husband, or ex-husband now, and had to bite her bottom lip in order to fight back the tears that she had been expecting long ago: the tears of relief for finding out that Dwayne would be ok. Years ago she had dreamt about that day and had looked forward to it with anticipation as she watched the way that his face looked peaceful and in a deep sleep. She had expected him to wake up, smile that smile that he only had for her and for him to at least whisper that everything would be ok. Then she would fill his face with soft kisses before holding him without letting go until some doctor had to pull her off of him.  
  
He was awake now, but now she couldn't fill his face with kisses. She had no right to do so. She had no right to even be there; she had abandoned her husband at the most critical time of his life.   
  
Swallowing a knot in her throat, Amy turned to Steve before having to wipe away a tear from her face. "Steve, can you please...let me stay here with him for a bit?"  
  
At that, Steve frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest. Out of Mick, Kurt and him, he was the one who resented the fact that she had remarried the most. Mick and Kurt were understanding, claiming that she had a right to move on and to be happy, but he didn't understand that reasoning. There was no point. She supposedly loved him and cared about him, but now he almost hated her for hurting one of his best friends.  
  
"No," he answered defensively. "I'm not getting out of here."  
  
Letting out a sigh and closing her eyes, Amy shook her head and wiped away yet another tear. "Please. I won't be here long, and he's sleeping, right? I won't do anything; I care about him too much."  
  
When he heard that, Steve couldn't help but frown at her - almost scowling. How dare she even say that? How dare she even be there...? In order to not say the words that he had been wanting to yell at her for years, Steve simply clenched his jaw tightly before walking out and almost slammed the door on his way out.  
  
As she watched him leave, Amy folded her arms in front of her chest as well; not moving. Now that she was back in that room, part of her wanted to run away. She remembered those days when all she would do was cry and pray that he would be ok: that some sort of miracle could happen and he would suddenly open his eyes. She remembered the helplessness that she had felt day in and day out as she watched him on that bed and all she could do was hold his hand.   
  
Looking down at her own hand, sobs started to get choked inside of her throat. She felt so lost, so...alone. Turning towards Dwayne once more, she tried to smile, but instead more tears simply rushed out as she talked. "How are you feeling, Dwayne...?"  
  
At that, he opened his eyes slowly and turned to her; his eyes glassy with tears. "How did you know I was awake?"  
  
"Because I know you," she answered as she smiled very slightly and went to sit down on the chair that was placed next to his bed. "How are you feeling?" As she asked, she unconsciously caressed his forehead gently; something she had often done not only while he had been in the hospital, but even from before.  
  
If Dwayne had been expecting anything, her touching his forehead had not been one of them. With her touch it made him remember those mornings when they would wake up together, warm underneath the sheets and the blankets. Before he had loved her touch; the warmth from her hands and the feeling that he got every time she did it, but now...   
  
Now her touch seemed to burn. Something inside of him churned and turned with each stroke, knowing that she wasn't his anymore. She belonged to another man now, and although he wanted to hate her, he couldn't. He still loved her, and it was knowing that he still loved her but could do nothing about it that her touching him hurt.   
  
Just as he was going to answer, a lump in his throat seemed to start choking him and he had to close his eyes to make it go away. "I, uh," he started saying, turning his head towards the other side so she would stop touching him. He didn't even want to see her anymore; it all hurt too much. "Not bad, I guess. Woke up, so that's good, right?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered quietly as she tried to keep a smile on her face. The moment he had looked away, though, she felt her heart break all over again. "We're all really glad that you're awake now."  
  
Letting out a small scoff, Dwayne rolled his eyes. "Sure."  
  
Upon hearing his sarcasm, Amy frowned at him in confusion. "You don't believe me...? We are glad that you woke up."  
  
"Especially you, right?" As he asked, his voice sounded bitter.  
  
"Dwayne..."  
  
"What, Amy? Why are you even here, anyway? Did you come to shove it in my face that you remarried...?"  
  
"Dwayne, please-"  
  
"I know you remarried, Amy; I know everything, ok? You don't have to do your little pity calls, I don't need you here. I'm ok now, I'm awake, so now you can go. Go back to your husband and do me a favor; just stay there and don't ever come to see me again."  
  
"Would you listen to me?" She stopped for a moment, trying to compose herself and keep down her voice. His words had hurt her, but she should have expected them. She should have just left when Steve told her to. "I'm really, really sorry that things turned out this way. I wanted to wait for you, to see you wake up, then take you home and continue with our lives. I wanted us to-... I wanted us to have a baby, or babies, and have our own family. You think I wanted things to turn out this way? You think I wanted you to fall off of that stupid thing and have you lose consciousness all these years?"  
  
"Oh, so it's my fault."  
  
"No, it's no one's fault." Amy wiped away her tears and continued talking. "But it just...happened. I didn't want it to happen, but it did, and..."  
  
He turned towards her, his eyes now dry and filled with anger and resentment. "And you married him. How long ago?" He waited for her answer but, when she stayed silent, he clenched his jaw slightly. "How long ago, Amy?"  
  
"Almost three years."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Kevin. He's a really nice man, and we're..."  
  
"...happy, I know," he finished for her. The next question that he was going to ask seemed to be too farfeteched for him to even formulate it. He didn't even know how he managed to gather the strength to find his voice. "How's your son?"  
  
At first Amy didn't know what to say, or if she should even answer that. Steve had mentioned that he knew everything, but she hadn't thought that they would have told him that she now had a son. "Fine. He's getting big."  
  
"That's...great," he answered apathetically, exhausted both mentally and physically. Aside from the fact that the conversation had taken its toll on him, just the fact of dealing with everything that he had to deal with now was getting him even worse.  
  
Amy knew that he was tired, and that he didn't want her to be there; that he didn't want to see her, but she didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with him, yet at the same time she just wanted to go back home. It felt as if she was suffocating in there. "I think I'm going to get going now. I'm really happy you're awake now." Taking her purse, she stood up and, unconsciously, she started to lean towards him to kiss his forehead.  
  
As he saw her doing that, Dwayne closed his eyes and turned his head towards another side, where she wouldn't see him. He would have moved away from her, but he was far too weak to do anything but move his head.  
  
When he did that, Amy realized what she was doing and stopped; letting out a small sigh. "I hope you get better soon," she said bravely as she smiled at him. When he didn't say anything, she bit her bottom lip again and started for the door.  
  
Before she reached it, Dwayne talked again in a low voice; still not turning to her. "Don't come to see me again. I don't ever want to see you again." Although he tried to keep his voice low so as to hide all the emotions inside of him, he couldn't hide the coldness and anger that seemed to drip from his words. He didn't open his eyes, so he didn't see Amy nod and quietly walk out; but when he heard the door close he simply opened his eyes and tried to relax. Tried to ignore Steve's voice, asking him if he was ok. Trying to ignore the way that his breathing started to quicken and his eyes seemed to get flooded with tears. All he wanted to was to forget.   
  
Forget the past. Forget the present.   
  
Forget love. Forget life.  
  
Forget her. 


	3. Not So Alone

AN: Woo-hoo, chapter 3 already! Reason I'm happy about it? I'm proud that I'm keeping up with updating instead of waiting it out or something. :D I actually have an alternative version to this chapter, but figured I'd just post this version instead. If anyone's interested in reading it, let me know and I'll post it. :)  
  
Once again, thank you very much for the reviews. You guys are great. 3  
  
About the pairing, I'm still debating it but I'm not even sure that romance will take place in the fic. At least not yet, so I have plenty of time to think about it. ;) And, **TCO**, I hadn't even done it with that purpose (of Amy being Lita), but now I can't stop thinking about it that way...! LOL, I guess it could work... I love a Rock/Lita pairing more than all the other Rock pairings, but that's another story for a different time. I don't want to bore you before starting to read this. :/  
  
_Little Angel 19_  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Even though the television was on, Dwayne wasn't paying attention to it. He wasn't even aware of what was on but, knowing Mick, it would most likely be some sort of cartoon. Even though it felt as if he was alone, Mick was sitting on a couch in the small living room of the room while he was supposed to be eating something.  
  
As he stared down at the food in front of him, though, Dwayne couldn't bring himself to actually eat anything. It had been a week and a half since he had woken up, and since then he had made very little improvement. The doctors kept telling him that he needed to try to start getting better; start physical therapy because he was still far too weak to even hold himself up, getting out of bed at least on a wheelchair so he could go outside for fresh air, anything that would get him better, but he refused to. There really was no point.   
  
Letting out a sigh, Dwayne put down his fork on the plate and leaned back against the bed. The nurses had helped to get him set up sitting up comfortably on the bed and with some sort of table on his lap, but even like that he wasn't happy nor calm.  
  
"Not hungry?"  
  
Mick walked inside, carrying a magazine in his hand. The television had been on, but he had mostly been reading in order to get caught up with a few wrestling things that he had missed the past couple of months. No matter how long he had been away from the business, he still tried to keep up with the business; it would never let him go. While he had been reading, though, he had noticed that Dwayne hadn't even taken a bite out of his food; that he had just been poking the food with his fork instead of actually scooping up anything to eat.   
  
At Mick's question, Dwayne turned to him and shook his head slightly as he rested his hands on his lap. "No."  
  
"Dwayne, you've got to eat something..."  
  
With a simple shrug, Dwayne brushed away the remark before he nodded towards the television. "What were you watching?"  
  
Chuckling, Mick sat down on the chair next to Dwayne's bed. "Raw. It's actually pretty good tonight, if you want to watch it...?"  
  
"No, that's ok. I've probably missed a lot already, after being 'asleep' for so long." He stayed silent, looking down at the food, before turning to him. "What exactly has been going on in there?"  
  
"Oh, not that much. The rookies that were there when you last watched it? They're great wrestlers right now." Chuckling, he shook his head. "When we go back to a show they're going to see us as veterans already."  
  
"'We'?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Mick answered as he leaned back against the chair. "Don't you want to go back some time?"  
  
Frowning, Dwayne asked, "To what? I won't be able to wrestle again."  
  
"Come on, Dwayne, don't talk like that. The doctor already talked with you, and-"  
  
"And he said that I had a chance, but he never said that I would actually get better completely. Too much time has passed, Mick; I'm not going to be the same person I was years ago. I mean, seriously, how long has it been since I've been out of this room? Or just actually sit up on my own, or walk, or be...me? Too long, Mick. Way, way too long. So why don't you do me a favor and stop with the fake possibilities? It won't happen, so please just let it go."  
  
As Dwayne talked, Mick simply stayed silent, not bothering to stop him. In a way he was glad that he was doing that, because he was letting out some of the emotions that he was determined to keep inside, but he didn't like the fact that he was being so hard on himself. The doctor had reassured them that, with enough care and support, he would be able to go back to normal; or at least as much as possible.   
  
"Look," Mick started saying after a while, leaning slightly towards him. "I know that it's hard. And I know that you are very discouraged because of everything that has happened, but you can't give up."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"... What?"  
  
"You don't know what it's like. You don't know what it's like to feel this, to live this, ok? You don't know."  
  
"Ok, so I don't know!" Mick stood up as he raised his voice, getting fed up with Dwayne's attitude. "I'm sorry, Dwayne, but damn it, you're better than this. You are so much better than this; you're a lot stronger than what you're giving yourself credit for. You've survived a fall that people usually don't. You woke up from a coma that people thought was going to eat you up; that you were not even going to wake up. But look at you! You woke up, you have all the chances to get better, to just live!  
  
"Do you know how many people would want to be in your position? Do you know how many people would want to be able to just wake up one more day so that they could see what they left behind?"  
  
At that, Dwayne frowned deeply and turned to him, upset. "Well woo-hoo for me: I woke up to find my wife married to someone else! I found my life turned upside down, and for what? Huh, Mick?"  
  
"I don't know why this happened, but there has got to be a reason why you're still here, don't you think?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Dwayne said as he looked towards the window.  
  
Mick stayed silent, watching him. "That's the best you can do? The best you can say? 'Whatever'? What, are you thirteen years old?" When Dwayne didn't answer and kept pretending he wasn't listening, Mick sighed and shook his head slightly before starting to talk in a low voice. "It's going to be hard, I think we all know that, but you've still got your friends. We're all here, and we want you to be ok. Don't you think that if we wouldn't have wanted to see you or keep being your friends, we would have left long ago? Damn, man, wake up once and for all and realize that you're not alone, that you've got all of us here."  
  
Instead keeping up with pretending not to be listening, Dwayne had to give up his front and turned towards him. Mick had always had a knack for that; making him realize just how messed up he was in some decisions that he would make. How was it that he was always the goofiest guy, the guy that never seemed to be serious or take anything seriously, was the one that was making the most sense? Both Steve and Kurt hadn't yelled at him the way that Mick had, mainly because they felt sorry for him. Steve had been extremely close to raising hell one time the week before when all he had done throughout the day was look out the window, but he hadn't because he had been stopped by both Mick and Kurt.  
  
And it wouldn't surprise Dwayne that Steve would be pissed off at Mick; not because he had yelled at him, but because he hadn't let him do it himself.  
  
"So," Mick continued, calmer now that he had seen that Dwayne wasn't ignoring what was being said, how he had done since he had woken up. "What do you say? Are you going to give it a shot, or do you want to keep living in this hospital for the rest of your life?"  
  
For the first time in weeks - in years, actually, a small smile started to grow on Dwayne's lips. What was most surprising was not only that he was smiling, but the fact that he wasn't forcing it. "Wow, you guys had made me start to wonder when I'd get you tired of how I was acting..."  
  
"Oh, believe me," Mick said with a chuckle, "that happened about three days after you woke up. If you wouldn't have changed we would have probably strapped you onto a wheelchair and drive your candyass out of this place."  
  
Something choked out of Dwayne's throat and, because it had been so long since he had heard it and since he had made that sound, at first it sounded weird to hear it. It didn't even sound like him.   
  
It was a laugh. He had managed to laugh. "Nice to know, Mick." Smiling, Dwayne shook his head before chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck. "Thank you, though. It means a lot, everything that you said..."  
  
Mick smiled and shook his head. "It's no problem. Now, about eating-"  
  
At that, Dwayne made a face. "I'm just not hungry; don't push it, Mick."  
  
Before he could say anything else, the phone suddenly started ringing and Mick stood up to go answer it. Dwayne watched him leave, shaking his head slightly, before turning back towards the food in front of him. He couldn't understand how the doctors and nurses, and even his friends, expected him to get better when the food looked the way that it did. Ever since his first hospital stay he had hated hospital food, and at the moment just thinking about bringing the fork up to his mouth and eat the food in front of him made his stomach churn even more.  
  
But Mick was right; he couldn't just stay depressed all the time. He had a right to, sure, but it wasn't him. That wasn't the way that The Rock was. The Rock would take on any challange and rise above it. The Rock would say "Just bring it" before gladly proving people wrong, so why should this be any different?  
  
Right?  
  
Taking a small deep breath, he scooped up some vegetables into his fork and raised it up to eye-level, as if making sure that the vegetables seemed ok to eat. And also to get his mind and body ready to get ready to eat. For far too long he had depended on anything but solid food, and now his body had to get used to it again. The idea of putting food in his mouth, chewing it, and then swallowing it made him want to be sick, but he had to do it. It was just another challenge.  
  
Without another thought, Dwayne brought the fork to his mouth and ate the vegetables, glad that Mick wasn't watching; he would probably think that he was eating because of what he had said. And, even though it was true, he wasn't ready to tell him just how right he was.  
  
What Dwayne hadn't been counting on, though, and hadn't noticed, was the fact that Mick was standing by the door and had seen him eat. In fact, it wasn't until Dwayne was about to get more vegetables that he saw Mick chuckling under his breath.  
  
"Ok, so I'm eating," Dwayne said in a sigh of defeat.   
  
"I can see that. But it's good."  
  
"Who was it on the phone?"  
  
"Actually...that was Shane."  
  
"McMahon?"   
  
"Yeah," he answered as he went back to sit down. "He's managing most of the WWE now. He wanted you to travel along with us once you get out of here. He's offering you a job, you both just have to talk out what your position will be."  
  
At the news, Dwayne was so surprised that the fork slipped off of his hand. His muscles had already been weak enough, but with the surprise he couldn't keep holding the fork. "He-... Work in the WWE again?" When Mick nodded, he didn't know how to react. How was he supposed to react? No one even knew how he would actually end up, but he wanted him to get back to work? "Wow, um... I actually don't know what to say."  
  
Chuckling, Mick shook his head slightly. "You don't have to decide right now."  
  
"Are you with the company still?"  
  
"On and off. You know, our sort of retirement where we show up at the most random times. But I got offered a position too. Desperate for something old that could be considered new, I guess." Mick stayed silent, how Dwayne was, both of them thinking about what they would decide. It's not like they needed to make a decision right away, but just the possibility of going back was making something inside wake up.  
  
Something to look forward to.


	4. Numb

;; Updating again. Short little chapter, but it was the easiest thing to write for me right now, so I hope you enjoy, and that I didn't leave too many of you hanging with not updating, lol. Amy isn't Lita, by the way: clearing it up. I had just picked out a name, and Amy was the first to come to mind. ;; And this isn't the last chapter, if anyone's wondering. So, without anything further; here's the next chapter. Enjoy. :)

* * *

"Dwayne! Dwayne, open the door right now!"

The loud pounding at the door caused Dwayne to open his eyes slightly, just to peer to the door for a moment before closing his eyes again. In the back of his mind he knew that it was Kurt, and that it wasn't going to take too long before he'd try to make his way into the room, but he didn't care. He felt himself floating so high that all he cared about was enjoying the feeling. He was tired of feeling pain. He was tired of feeling helplessness, of feeling like someone's baby that everyone seemed to enjoy taking care of.

Maybe 'enjoy' wasn't the word, but they didn't seem to mind fussing over him. Was he getting enough sleep? Was he ok? Was he eating properly? He was tired of the attention, and he was tired of the questions. He knew that they were just trying to help, but he didn't want their help. He could live, or die, however he wanted; it wasn't their choice.

It had been almost a year and a half since he had woken up in that cold hospital room; a year and a half since he had found out that Amy had gotten married again and had a family of her own. A family that he had no part of. It was a year and a half since he had woken up to a shattered life, and it was a year and a half since he had started trying to gather the pieces to put everything back together. The therapists told him that he was doing well, improving wonderfully and that it wouldn't be long until he could start jogging and working out. He could walk somewhat ok and function normally to the most he could, but being back to the "normal" person everyone was hoping he'd return to seemed to be too farfetched. They were crazy, he had decided; he would never be 'normal' again. Whatever normal really was.

"Dwayne! Damn it, don't do this!"

Kurt's yells suddenly registered in his mind again, but instead of sitting up to go answer he just stayed in the same position he was in. Getting up was a task that was too much for him; he had no strength to go open the door for anybody, even if those people were his friends. Or, friend. Mick was probably still at the arena, Austin was…God knew where, but Kurt… What was he doing there? He had little notion of the time at the moment, but he somehow knew that it was far too early for Kurt to be back to the hotel. And why was he bothering him, didn't he have a room of his own?

Again, deep down he knew the reason, but he wanted to avoid thinking about it. About six months ago Shane had finally convinced him to have him travel with them and to continue the therapy with the doctor that traveled along with them, something that he had reluctantly agreed to. At the time, though, it had seemed like a far better idea than just staying in a one bedroom apartment by himself for months at a time, and answering multiple phone calls by 'the gang' asking him how he was doing by himself. More questions, more answers, more talking. Traveling along with the company meant,though, that he would go back to a world that he couldn't yet be a part of, and instead of doing him any good it caused him to sink into another type of depression that seemed to eat him up as each day passed. Waking up in a hotel every day, to a different view outside the window didn't have the same excitement as it once had. Once he had been able to wake up in that room but soon enough leave it in order to go to an arena to work. To an arena where, that same night, he would feel alive again. He would feel the chants from thousands of people, and he would do what he loved to do.

Now it seemed like all he did was travel with them, but stay in the room. If he went to the arena it pained him to see everything from the outside. They'd offer him to stay, to help in some things, but they were doing it out of pity; that much he knew. It had to be out of pity… So, instead of being the odd ball in the bunch, he'd just get in his car and leave to the hotel. Mick and Kurt would often call him during the show, asking if he was ok and wanting to know if he wanted something to eat afterwards. His temper would sometimes get the best of him, but other times he just listened and answered automatic responses that he was used to. _"I'm fine." "No, thanks, I'm not hungry." "Yeah, I'll see you here when you get here." "Ok, I'll see you later."_

He felt like a robot, answering the same answers to the same questions that seemed to plague him every day. As the time wore on, and the same questions would be asked, he became an expert at hiding the truth. He became an expert at acting ok, at hiding the truth. No, he wasn't sleeping well. No, he wasn't eating well unless someone was there, watching him eat. No, he wasn't_ ok_. He was far from it. At night it'd be sometimes hard to sleep, and he found that his best friends were the painkillers that the doctor had prescribed for when his body would start hurting. He preferred to feel numb; that way he wouldn't hurt. He wouldn't feel lonely: he just…wouldn't feel.

He liked that better.

"Dwayne…please. Open the door."

"Go away," Dwayne finally managed to say, but he doubted that Kurt heard. It had merely been a groan underneath his breath. The pills were working, and he could feel himself start to loosen up. ' _Just to sleep_,' he had convinced himself. '_I just need to sleep._' It had been easy to find his way into a liquor store, and even easier to get himself a bottle of vodka for that night. Using the hotel's mini fridge was too dangerous; he knew that Shane would see the bill and suspect something.

So why was Kurt there? He had been careful, he hadn't left any tracks. He had made his way quietly into the hotel with the bottle of vodka, and nothing had gone wrong. It had been hours since then…

Soon enough, the reason as to why Kurt was there didn't seem to matter to him anymore. The sounds around the room seemed to start fading away, and all he now concentrated on was the feeling. The numbness to the pain, both physical and emotional. The way that things seemed to suddenly lift from his body. He felt free again. Happy, even… The pounding, the yells… They were gone. All he wanted was to fade away, at least for a few hours. Days, even, if he was lucky. He just needed sleep.

He just wanted to sleep.


	5. Hopes & Fears

Italics is a memory. Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Steve Austin rushed up the stairs of the emergency exit of the hotel. "Six damn floors," he huffed under his breath angrily, along with a few curses towards Kurt for calling him how he had. 

"Steve! Come to the hotel, to Dwayne's room."

And that was it; that was the whole conversation after his disgruntled "Hello." If it wasn't for the urgency in his voice he would have waited for the elevator to come down from the eighth floor, but instead he had opted for the stairs so he could get there faster. Whatever was wrong with Dwayne he hoped it was nothing bad. Maybe he was just feeling a little down again… Or maybe he was just… …something. But nothing bad. It couldn't be anything bad; he had convinced himself of that.

As he approached the door to Dwayne's room, though, whatever he had built up in his head and whatever he had been hoping for proved wrong. Totally wrong. Kurt was starting to rush inside the room without noticing that he was walking up to him too, and when he caught a sight of the man on the bed he wished that he would have taken the elevator instead of the stairs.

On the bed Dwayne's body was limp as he layed on his back. Next to him there was one of his bottles of painkillers, and on the other side there was an empty bottle of vodka. His skin was pale, perspiration glistening with the light as it started covering his body, and from where Steve was standing he couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

Kurt had been about to call out for help after frantically trying to find a pulse and it was then that he noticed Steve standing at the door, shocked. "Steve, he's barely breathing. He-" Kurt looked down once again at his friend. 'He looks dead already,' a part of him thought to himself before he quickly pushed away the thought. He couldn't be dead; he just couldn't…

In what seemed to take him a lifetime, Steve managed to react to the scene in front of him and rushed to the bed. With disgust he threw the bottle of vodka to the ground before checking his pulse again. Kurt checked the half empty bottle of painkillers and was relieved to still find pills in there. Putting them aside he stood as he watched Steve trying to wake Dwayne up. "I'm going to go get some help, he needs a hospital."

Kurt's remark barely clicked in Steve's mind, his concentration setting only in waking Dwayne up. He had to wake up, damn it, he had to. He didn't notice when Kurt took the phone and stood by the window to call, he just kept calling Dwayne's name. "Dwayne. Dwayne, wake up. Open your eyes, dammit! You can't do this, you can't." He stayed quiet, somehow hoping he'd open his eyes but, when he didn't after a while, Steve shook him. "Damn it, wake up! You can't do this to me, you bastard, not you too. Wake up!"

The fear that was taking a hold of him and it was terrifying him, but he couldn't help it. He had lost people already like this, Dwayne couldn't be added to the list. Not him too… Suddenly, Dwayne's eyes seemed to try to flutter slightly for an instant before they closed completely again. That was better than nothing, Steve concluded, before turning to Kurt, who was holding the phone and looking out the window; the ambulance heard already outside.

* * *

Steve drove as fast and as close as he could to the ambulance. Kurt was in the passenger seat beside him, but neither of them talked. It was pointless; their only concern right now was the health of their friend. The paramedics hadn't let them go with them, so as fast as they could they had gotten into the rental car they had and hurried after them. With each streetlight that they passed the ride to the hospital seemed to feel longer and longer, everything feeling like if it was going at a slow motion, when all they wanted to do was to fast forward all this and find out how Dwayne was. 

Memories flooded Steve, fearing for the worst. For a year and a half they had been so certain that Dwayne was going to be fine, that he had made it through the coma and after that he'd be fine. They were wrong, they had been so wrong… When he started traveling with them they had noticed that his jokes were becoming less and less, and that he didn't seem all that well, but they had dismissed it unconsciously; figuring that it was just a stage and he'd go through it like with everything else. Now he cursed himself and everybody else for not noticing, for not doing anything about it when he could. Instead of fast forwarding now he wanted to go back in time, fix things and prevent this from happening. Be more encouraging with Dwayne, or at least force him to stay with them at the arena so they could have kept a close eye on him.

Or go back to the hospital, when things weren't so bad after he had gotten over the initial depression. Go back when they were all hopeful, and Dwayne was fine…

* * *

_"Dwayne... Dwayne, are you awake?"_

_The soft whispering hadn't been enough to wake Dwayne up, but when that soft almost non-existent whispering started to become more constant and louder, he started to wake up. He had been in such a deep sleep that, at first, he hadn't even been aware of anything around him; not the uncomfortable position he was in, the coldness from the night, the now-annoying whispering that kept trying to wake him..._

_But, now, he slowly started to open his eyes and, whispering in a groggy voice, he answered"Now I am..." Squinting his eyes at the sudden light, Dwayne couldn't help but bring his arm up to hide from the light that felt as if it was blinding him. "Steve, what the fuck do you want..."_

_Chuckling, Steve shook his head. "Damn, took you a while to wake up."  
_

_"Yeah, because I was asleep. What time is it?"_

_"3:30. But I was bored and figured that maybe we could catch up."_

_Frowning, Dwayne turned slowly towards Steve; almost glaring. It had been a month and a half since he had woken up, and ever since the 'talk' that he and Mick had had, he had started to go back to normal. Not in the physical sense, because he still had a long way to go, but more in the emotional state. He joked, laughed, and acted how he had before; trying to ignore the bad things from his life. There were moments when he wanted to just hide and stay there forever, but those were just moments when he managed to get disappointed with something, or he remembered all the things he had lost._

_Now, though, in the middle of the night, he was far from getting depressed. The fact that he had been woken up was enough to make him upset at the moment. "Steve, no offense, but we could do this tomorrow morning. I had a two hour long session of physical therapy"_

_"Because you wanted to," Steve corrected him._

_Sighing, Dwayne shook his head. "Whatever. I'm tired, though, can't we just talk later?"_

_"Alright, alright," Steve said as he let out a long sigh. "We'll talk in the morning."_

_Grateful that he hadn't insisted on talking, he sighed again and closed his eyes._

_It didn't take long, though, for Steve being heard again whispering"Are you nervous?"_

_Without opening his eyes, Dwayne answered. "Nervous? Why would I be?"_

_"For going back to Raw. Going back to traveling, to...everything."_

_This time Dwayne opened his eyes but, instead of turning to Steve and answering, he stayed silent while he looked at a certain spot on the wall. The past few days he had ignored that question after he asked himself the same thing; not wanting to think about it. He had dismissed it at first by claiming that he wasn't even sure if he would be going back, but as the days passed he couldn't imagine himself not working anymore. All this, all the therapy and all the struggle he was going through, was for something: and the most obvious reason, to him, was going back to work._

_But was he nervous?_

_"I guess so," Dwayne finally admitted as he turned towards Steve. His answer sounded awkward, not wanting to full out 'expose' how unsure he still was of everything; it made him feel vulnerable. Here was a guy who he had confided in for years; a guy who had become one of his best friends and who he knew he could trust, but even knowing all that he still felt vulnerable, and he hated that feeling. "I just don't know anything else that I could do after I finish all this. It's just hard to imagine myself doing anything else right now; I have no experience in anything, and I don't really feel like going back to acting. At least not now. And even if I know that I won't be able to wrestle, at least not for a while, I want to go back."_

_Understanding, Steve nodded as he thought silently. It made sense, and in a way he knew what he was going through; the battle of trying to figure out what to do: what was next. None of them knew when he'd be well enough to go traveling with them again, but if he did want to go back they had to be realistic that it could take a while. And, at least from what he could see, it didn't bother Dwayne much, and he was glad for at least that. They all had to be patient, him most of all, and as long as he was calm about it, it was a start. Hopefully it'd stay that way…_

"_Steve?"_

_Dwayne's voice snapped Steve out of his own thoughts and he turned to him slightly wide eyed. "What?"_

_At the response, Dwayne couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Don't tell me you're still saying that stupid catchphrase of yours…"_

"_Hey," Steve answered, smirking. "It's not my fault that the fans liked a simple word like 'what' so much and turn it into a catchphrase."_

"_Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dwayne said, dismissing his remark playfully as he turned back towards the ceiling again, for what seemed to be the millionth time he had done so during the time he had been awake. He stayed silent for a moment, making Steve wonder what he was thinking about. After a while of silence, Dwayne started talking again, his voice low. "Don't you…hate those 'what if' questions…?"_

_Even if he knew what he was talking about, Steve couldn't help but ask, "What are you talking about?"_

"_You know, like… What if this hadn't happened? Would Amy and I still be together now…? What would have been of my life? Or…what if…I hadn't woken up…?" He stayed silent again, a lump suddenly growing in his throat that made his voice sound even lower. "Or what if this…attempt at going back to normal isn't working? What if I end up on a wheelchair, and I can't go back to wrestling? It's just… I hate those thoughts. I try not to think them, but…what if…"_

_Staring at his friend, Steve realized once again how hard this whole thing was for him, and even more going through it alone. He had his friends there, but they all knew he wanted more. He still cared for Amy, and he needed her too. For years they had both claimed they were best friends, almost like brothers, but he needed the type of best friend that only a wife could be; and there was nothing he could do to help him. Being there was one thing, one way of helping him, but there was so much that they all wanted to do but couldn't. Only time could heal him now…_

_Leaning towards him, Steve smiled slightly and answered in the same low voice. "What if you hadn't started acting? Would all this happen…? What if you would have stayed in wrestling, would I have still kicked your ass…?" At the last comment a small smile appeared on Dwayne's lips, and Steve smiled back to him. "Well, we know the answer to that one. But, as for the rest… I don't think we'll ever know, and it's unfair for you to try to crack your head while trying to find those answers. You're torturing yourself, and in the end it won't help you." At that, Dwayne turned his head once more to look up at the ceiling again._

"_But," he continued, "I know what you're talking about. I always had them, and still do, and I know how much it can haunt you. So don't do it, Dwayne, you've got enough on your plate as it is." Dwayne turned to him at that, and he smiled encouragingly. "You'll be fine. You're tired of hearing this, I know, but you just need time. And you have plenty of it now."

* * *

_

"Steve?"

Steve started out of his thoughts and turned to him, realizing that he had been driving automatically the whole time and hadn't even noticed when they had stopped at the hospital. Turning to Kurt he realized that he was talking to him.

Kurt stared at him for a moment, knowing that he was torturing himself as much as he was. After a moment of not knowing what to say, he nodded towards the hospital. "Come on, let's…go see how he is. And call Mick…"

Without saying anything else they both got out of the car and headed towards the hospital quickly, hoping that everything would be ok, and that once again Dwayne would be given a chance to live.


End file.
